


Hot

by operahousehomicide



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Era, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Power Play, Sexual Content, Smut, relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operahousehomicide/pseuds/operahousehomicide
Summary: Charles always feels, when they get like this, that he is going to burn up from the inside out unless Benedict touches him.





	Hot

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler alert benedict does touch him

Charles felt like he was on fire.

His head felt far away from his body, mouth stuffed with cotton, limbs heavy. There was nothing left in his mind except for the sole notion that he very may probably combust without Benedict’s cock in him. He knew he was being melodramatic again, but God if he didn’t want the other man.

Benedict’s smirk swam into his vision, the way it so often did when he had been stringing Lee along for enough time that Charles was reduced to this particular brand of sheer, burning want. He felt as though it was eating him from the inside out. A soft mewl slipped past his lips, and Benedict’s gaze softened ever-so-slightly, his hand coming up to graze the underside of Charles’ chin.

The point of contact performed as an anchor, grounding Lee to the present and focusing him through the cloud of lust. Charles pressed his weight forward, into Benedict’s hand, greedy for more touch. Benedict’s thumb ran up along his jaw, stroking softly, and Charles found himself whimpering again.

Arnold leaned in, eyes hungry, and Lee shuddered a little, head tipping. His lips parted, eyelashes drooping a little, the smaller of the two very clearly anticipating a kiss. Benedict chuckled not unkindly and let his hand fall from Charles’ face. Lee wanted to cry out with frustration.

His knuckles had long since gone white, hands cramped up from clutching at the bedlinens. Lee settled on his hands and knees, back arched a little, ankles crossed. He knew the rules. He was to keep calm and quiet and still until Benedict told him otherwise.

Arnold never let him back into his thoughts for long, preferring to keep him at the forefront of his mind throughout all of their interactions. The crop in Benedict’s free hand tapped nonchalantly into his palm, and Charles’ tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. Benedict was a fan of using specific tactics to keep Charles in line, and each time their use had been employed, Lee had been trained to anticipate their return more and more.

Benedict shifted slightly, circling around Lee’s side to settle behind him. Charles’ breath hitched. He screwed his eyes shut, muscles tightening with expectancy of the first blow. One of Arnold’s hands came to rest on the curve of his ass. Lee sucked his lip between his teeth and bore down on it hard to draw blood. The moment dragged on into a pregnant pause, and it took every ounce of will in Charles’ body to prevent from turning and asking Benedict to please, god, just touch him.

After another few seconds of stressed patience, Benedict shifted again. Charles braced himself for the crack of the crop on his skin, and instead found the slick, hot slide of Arnold’s tongue between his legs. Lee squeaked, completely unashamed of his surprise, and almost immediately slid down from his hands onto his elbows.

Benedict followed him, lapping oh-so-casually away at him, and Charles moaned, burying his face in the blankets. Arnold chuckled a little, gripping two generous handfuls of Lee’s ass and kneading as he ate him out. Charles was panting, open-mouthed, against his forearm when Benedict decided he had had enough of that.

Arnold rolled him over without much more than a pat to his hip, Lee scrambling to comply. Charles spread his legs, lips bitten raw, and Benedict settled atop him, hands running possessively up his sides. One caught at his hip, the other continuing up to thread its fingers through his hair. Charles whined long and low in his throat, and Benedict swallowed the noise with a fierce kiss, crushing their lips together and licking the blood out of Charles’ mouth.

Benedict pulled free from the kiss when Charles started grinding his hips up against his thigh, seeking any sort of contact to relieve the pressure twisting in his stomach. Charles watched with half-lidded eyes as Arnold reached to the bedside table, collecting the vial of oil there and slicking his fingers with it. Lee let his eyes fall completely shut, head lolling back, as Benedict immediately proceeded to slip those fingers into him.

The stretch was as quick as usual, Benedict fucking him open with his fingers roughly enough to make Charles bare down to ease the pressure. Arnold bit a hot line of bruises up along Lee’s neck, then drew away and dressed his cock in the oil. Charles leaned up to kiss him, one arm winding up so he could clutch at Benedict’s shoulder.

Arnold sweetened the kiss briefly, braced above Charles with one hand and guiding his cock to Charles’ entrance with the other. Lee nipped Benedict’s lip at the blunt pressure of Arnold’s cockhead against him, then rocked his hips eagerly, the heat reaching a peak.

Still feeling as though he may burn up from the inside out, Charles dug his nails into Benedict’s skin, piercing crescent moons there, and ground down onto his cock. Benedict huffed a little moan into his ear, kissing at his jaw as he seated himself in the other. Charles clawed at his shoulders, panting like a dog.

“Fuck, fuck, Benny, please.” He chanted, eyes hazy, voice weak.

“That what you’re supposed to call me?” Benedict drawled, even as he shifted his knees to the backs of Lee’s thighs and adjusted himself.

“General Arnold, Ben, fuck, please, I need—I need it, god, please, I—”

Charles’ words cut off as the breath was punched from him at Benedict’s first thrust. It took a second for him to recover, taking the next thrust expertly and moaning delightedly at the sensation. He hitched his legs up over Ben’s hips, crossing them over the small of his back and hooking his ankles together.

“Good boy.” Arnold purred, and Charles raked a set of lines down his back.

Benedict sped up, picking up a rhythm of sharp, steady movements. Charles sobbed out a keen, toes curling, and sank a hand into Benedict’s unruly hair. Arnold kept at it for a long moment, then slowly began to even his thrusts out, taking Lee deeper and slower. Charles nuzzled into his jaw, kissing him a little, as he found himself very close very soon.

Arnold’s pace was unrelenting, and in no time at all, Charles’ climax hit him. He whimpered low in his throat, face pressed tight to the column of Benedict’s neck. Arnold’s name fell from his lips reverently as he seized up over Benedict’s cock, trembling through his orgasm and clinging tightly to the other.

Benedict cursed softly, speeding up again, and got in another good few thrusts before closing his eyes, head tilting back as he spent himself inside Lee. They sank together, dirty with sweat and cum, and Charles hummed happily, kissing at Benedict’s ear.

Arnold grunted, his softening cock slipping free of Lee’s body. Carefully, he guided Charles’ legs to the bed from his waist, moving to retrieve a washcloth from the waterbasin in the room. Ben cleaned the spend from between Lee’s legs, then settled atop him again. Charles kissed him, smiling softly, as his body finally began to cool down.

 


End file.
